


Miss Me?

by Merixcil



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Gen, Homecoming, Selectively Mute Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10427442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Noodle comes home





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set directly prior to the Saturnz Barz music video. 
> 
> Noodle always came across as selectively mute to me, so that's how I've written her here.

By the time she gets to London, Noodle’s hungry enough to eat stale pizza off 2D’s floor. Which is handy, because it appears that’s all they have left in the house.

“Haven’t eaten right in weeks,” Russel grumbles as he watches her scarf down mouldy pepperoni.

2D sits twitching in the corner, a gormless grin plastered over his face. Noodle’s missed the black of his eyes the same way she’s missed the white of Russel’s, she’s missed them so much that she almost finds it in her to open her mouth and say as much. She was never one for talking though, not unless she has to and even then, she avoids English like the plague. Her bandmates are the only people in the west who seem to understand her craving for silence.

On second thoughts, she’s not sure this is 2D’s bedroom. It comes with all the usual trappings of Stuart Pot, the keyboards and the barely functional classic videogames. But there’s also an electric drum kit stacked up next to a pair of six foot speakers and a metric ton of classic hiphop records, to say nothing of the stench of whiskey and fags that pervades the space. To all intents and purposes, it looks as if 2D, Russel and Murdoc are sharing one room between the three of them. It's difficult to say though, shipping herself from Tokyo to London has done nothing for her sense of spatial awareness, and this is the only part of the building Noodle's seen so far. It could just be a storage closet.

Murdoc is conspicuously absent right now, because of course he is. Of course, when a package arrived labelled specifically for him, Russel and 2D saw nothing wrong in indulging their curiosity and opening it up. Not out of any sense of unalienable community, or because what belongs to one of them effectively belongs to them all, simply because it occurred to them that they could.

“We…we really missed you Noodle,” 2D says, eye twitching. Noodle wonders if he isn’t back on speed. Not that she minds if he is, but it’s good to know these things in case he ever overdoses.

She doesn’t ask though, because she’s missed him too. Missed him so much that she abandons the pizza and pulls him into a one armed hug. Russel joins them momentarily, so that all three of them are holding tight to each other. It’s been a very long time since they’ve been able to chill out like this. Hell, the last time Noodle saw the others, she was shooting at them. She’s going to have to have words with Murdoc about that sooner or later. Big, long, English words, because he doesn’t speak Japanese.

Or at least, he didn’t speak Japanese the last time she saw him, Noodle has to concede that anything could have happened in the past six years.

When Murdoc opens the door, they’re still wrapped tight around each other. Noodle barely notices him arrive save for the squeaking of the door as it opens.

“What’re you two…oh.” Russel and 2D peel back, so that Noodle can get a good look at Murdoc. He’s wearing the same pair of skinny jeans he had on the day they recorded Fire Coming Out Of The Money’s Head and his skin has grown, if possible, all the more yellow in the intervening years. In one hand he holds a fistful of lottery tickets and in the other, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

Murdoc looks at her like he’s seen a ghost, his mouth going slack and his eyes wide. There’s something about the way his pupils dilate, overjoyed or miserable or apologetic or some odd mixture of the three, and it’s the most complex array of emotion Noodle’s ever seen him display.

Good, she thinks. He deserves to feel at least a little bad after that business with the cyborg and that thing where he all but let her rot in hell. Noodle’s going to hold Murdoc responsible for that because he was always the de-facto leader and he’s the only one of them who ever got tangled up in the kind of nonsense that can breach the veil like that in the first place. Besides, her and Russel were away for most of the plastic beach escapade, and 2D was locked in the basement. It can’t possibly be their fault.

The genuine human emotion in Murdoc’s eyes vanishes almost instantaneously, but Noodle knows she’s not going to forget it in a hurry. His face resolves into the usual heart-not-quite-in-it frown he adopts when things aren’t going quite his way. “Where the hell have you been?”

“She’s been in h-hell, Muds,” 2D replies.

“Shut up face ache, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Noodle doesn’t feel like explaining herself right now, not one bit. There will be time to explain what happened in Japan, the mob and her geisha outfit, trying to piece back together what happened when she opened fire on that bright pink monstrosity of an island and the world came tumbling down. All that can wait, till she finds out how Murdoc, 2D and Russel found each other again, and how Russel managed to shrink himself down to his old size.

Stars above there are a whole lot of questions that need answering. If she were in any other company she would cut to the chase, but these are her boys. No matter what nonsense the universe can think of to throw at them, the story always seems to restart with the four of them sitting in a room together. They’ve got time.

“Ya know,” Russel says, befor an uncomfortable silence can form, “this kinda reminds me of the first day, remember? With the FedEx box?”

2D shakes his head, “this is n-nothing l-like that! The first day th-there was a guitar.” He really is shaking like a leaf. Noodle is very glad he’s sitting down right now as he would only knock himself over if he weren’t.

“The first day we were living in a landfill. So I mean, what’s changed,” Murdoc flops to the floor with the rest of them, sitting just outside the circumference of possible hugs and not taking his eyes off Noodle for a second. “Satan’s balls, kid. Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Were she feeling up to talking, Noodle would point out that it has been ten years since her and Murdoc have had a proper conversation. He probably feels differently about it, knowing how he never fails to think of other people as somewhat less present than himself. He probably just pretended that the cyborg was her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Murdoc wines, sticking out his bottom lip like a guilty five year old.

Noodle is sure she doesn’t know what he’s talking about and sticks her nose firmly in the air.

“Aww c’mon!” Murdoc throws his arms up in despair, showering them all with cheap whiskey, “how come dead eyes and gigantor get a pass but I’m still in the dog house?”

Because when I examine my problems under the microscope, other than those caused by being raised as a human weapon by a mad scientist, they all come down to you – Noodle thinks, but doesn’t say. She tries to communicate as much through her eyes.

Murdoc has always been a whole lot smarter than she’s given him credit for. He has to be, so far he’s been the principal mastermind behind three of Gorillaz' four albums, and there’s no way a simpleton could manage such a feat. Sure, he’s far too inebriated far too much of the time for Noodle’s tastes, but he’s not an idiot. He sees what she’s trying to say as clear as day, even if he does try to shirk responsibility.

“Ok, so maybe I was responsible. Wait, no, a little bit responsible, Not too much you understand, just a smidge,” Murdoc starts.

Russel fixes him with a scathing stare, “get on with it Niccals.”

“Don’t rush me,” Murdoc snaps, “Anyway, what was I saying…”

“You were saying you w-were responsible,”

“Would you shut up? I’m not technically responsible for you winding up in Hell, Noodle. Maybe indirectly or, you know, vicariously but that wasn’t my fault.”

Noodle hardens her eyes, leaving Murdoc in no doubt that she absolutely blames him.

“Or who can say who’s to blame? Point is, unlike these two sad sacks, I actually went into the pit to get you back.”

She can’t help it, Noodle tips back her head and laughs. It doesn’t matter how adept Murdoc Niccals may be at communing with demons, there’s no way he actually braved Hell to get her back. It beggars belief that he would even think she’d buy that kind of bullshit.”

2D’s eyes stop twitching just long enough to cast a reproachful look her way, “he’s not lying, Noodle.”

“See!” Murdoc beams, and the edges of his smile are less jagged than Noodle remembers, “I totally did the deed. Blood sacrifice, great big sigil on the bathroom floor, hellfire, the works. You were pretty out of it when I sprung you though, not surprised you don’t remember it.” He pulls up his sleeve to reveal a pentagon that appears to have been branded into his skin, encircled by runes in no language Noodle understands, “and I got this for me troubles.”

It still doesn’t sound like a particularly convincing story, and 2D’s faith in Murdoc has always been as misplaced as it is absolute. Noodle looks to Russel for confirmation with no joy. “Hey, I was out swimming the seven seas while this was going on. These two have largely stuck to their story though.”

Tentatively, Noodle reaches out to touch the brand on Murdoc’s arm. Her fingers brush against his skin and she has just enough time to process how hot it feels, like the metal had only just been removed, because images of fire and blood flash behind her eyes. The demons, the flaying skin, the smell of something burning that she had been pretty sure was herself only every time she looked down she was still in one piece.

She doesn’t know how long the vision lasts, only that she’s pulled out of it by Russel reaching around her middle to forcibly drag her back. Noodle’s vision comes back into focus and she sees the others in a pile of limbs on the other side of the room, 2D evidently having pulled Murdoc away from her.

“Gettoff me,” Murdoc mutters, pulling away from 2D as quickly as he can. He disentangles the two of them, then pulls his shirt sleeve down to cover the brand, shuddering. He looks to Noodle, “now do you believe me?”

Of course she does. Noodle can disbelieve Murdoc’s sincerity from now until the end of days, she can doubt his courage and his sobriety even longer, but she can’t pretend that there’s anything on this earth that would provoke that kind of reaction in her other than a true sign of the devil. It doesn’t excuse the cyborg, or keeping 2D locked up, or the island, or burning down Kong Studios, or making two entire albums without her, but it’s a start.

Noodle nods. Murdoc’s shoulders relax, she hadn’t even realised he’d been tense.

“Good,” he says, “because we have a house viewing in forty five minutes, and I’d hate to be late. You guys coming?”

“Seeing as the last time we let you pick the accommodation, we wound up in this dump, we absolutely are,” Russel says, rising to his feet. He’s a whole lot shorter than Noodle remembers him being. Maybe whatever he had to do to shrink himself down from his giant self left him smaller than he had been before, or maybe it’s just been that long since she was actually standing next to him.

She had recorded Demon Days when she was fourteen years old, and now she’s twenty six. It’s been a bloody long time.

The one door to the room leads onto a corridor, with a single bathroom servicing the twenty or more rooms on this floor. It's unclear if they have the run of the building, or if they're just renting the one room. Murdoc leads the way, taking them down three flights of stairs that look like they haven’t seen a new coat of paint since Queen Victoria was on the throne, and out into the cool West London sunshine.

2D starts humming the bassline to Clint Eastwood, and Noodle’s fingers itch for a guitar with which to play along.

“What kinda place is it?” Russel asks as the four of them pile into Murdoc’s current ride – some kind of classic sports car in red that unaccountably boasts a Michigan number plate.

“Supposed to be pretty nice,” Murdoc says, strapping himself into the driver’s seat and scratching rather aggressively at his crotch as he sticks the keys in the ignition.

“That d-doesn’t sound much like us,” 2D squeaks.

He’s right, it doesn’t sound anything like them. Gorillaz were forged in the heart of Britain’s greatest landfill, and when that was no longer available Murdoc found an even bigger landfill out at sea. For all the glitz and glamour that Kong Studios boasted, the stench kept the four of them in isolation except for when they deemed it necessary that someone come visit. Wherever they wind up, they’re going to need that. Not because solitude is particularly essential to their creative process, but when they choose to unveil themselves, it’s that much more satisfying when it feels like they’re coming out of hiding.

“I mean,” Murdoc says as the engine kicks into life, “it’s supposed to be haunted.”

That’s more like it. Noodle reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pair of glasses she bought in Harajuku, one pink lens and one blue. They make the world look purple and disjointed and lovely. She turns her head towards the sun as the car pulls away, a welcome light after the past few weeks spent shipping herself across the ocean, and breathes deep. It feels so very good to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> I normally wait before publishing a newly finished fic, but chances are Daman and Jamie are about to start dropping bits of canon on us for Phase 4 and I wanted to get this up while it still fit the timeline. 
> 
> Comments are love. Come find me on [tumblr](http://jeffersonhairpie.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/chadfuture_).


End file.
